A Joke's Revenge
by Dreamer1920
Summary: It's Halloween in Bikini Bottom, crazy things are happening on the news, and after Mr. Krabs and Squidward leave SpongeBob alone for the night, the Krusty Krab turns into nothing less than a spine-tingling death trap. Soon, SpongeBob discovers that a certain "joke" told long ago is not only real but has come to wreak vengeance.
1. Chapter 1: It Was Just a Joke

**Hey, everyone! Well, here's my very first Halloween story! Boy, it took me a long time to stop being lazy and actually write this. I know I'm cutting it close, but at least it's here. This story was inspired by the original episode "Graveyard Shift", and by the fan-made computer game, "3 a.m. at the Krusty Krab". Also, this story is dedicated to an awesome friend of mine: Spades And Swords! OH, and one more thing: I added a little part in here with Nosferatu at the suggestion of sheldonplankton92! All credit for that goes to him/her. Thanks, man!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**A Joke's Revenge**

_5:45 p.m._

October 31st, in Bikini Bottom. The fun, exciting, carefree, and spooky spirit of All Hallows' Eve was taking hold of every house, business, and _especially _every dark alleyway on street corners.

Unlike the innocent and easily frightened children, some naysaying teenagers, who did not believe anything remotely "scary" was going to happen on this evening, walked with confidence past those creepy corners, only to be scared finless by two young men in bloody serial killer costumes, causing them to drop their buckets and sacks of candy onto the ground, and run back home to their mothers.

The two mystery men stepped fully out of the shadows of the alleyway, watching the horrified teens run down the road, screaming with their fins in the air.

One of the men, a young bluefish with green spots, removed his ski mask to reveal a satisfied grin, while his friend removed his own mask that was covered in ketchup used for blood.

The purple and blue fishes smiled down at the dropped candy before smiling at each other.

"Ha! I told ya these costumes would scare those suckers," the bluefish uttered smugly, grabbing the beige-colored sack and examining the sweet contents on the inside.

His friend raised an eyebrow offendedly as he picked up the other dropped sack and dark-purple bucket, throwing them both over his shoulder. "Told _me_? You didn't tell me **nothing,** Wade!"

Wade rolled his bright-green eyes and quietly said, "Well, I'm tellin' ya something _now_, man."

"What's that?" his friend leaned in, cupping a hand around his ear.

"SHUT YOUR FISH-HOLE!" Wade shouted, shutting his eyes and spitting all over his friend. While said friend wiped the saliva off his face, Wade then said, "come on, let's go scare us some more candy out of more suckers."

As they disappeared into the night, other shenanigans were unfolding on the underwater streets: kids, of course, trick-or-treating while wearing their own creative costumes, other teenagers that were either too busy _not_ giving a darn, or were egging old cars, tee-peeing houses, or stealing handfuls of candy from bowls that read: "Take one". But the most intriguing thing of all was the insane people running around and scaring the scales off every person they saw. This all was enough to grab the attention of the local news.

"Good evening and _Happy Halloween_, Bikini Bottom! I'm Perch Perkins, live on the scene of our beloved streets. As you can see, we are in the middle of everything getting completely, _utterly_ destroyed by reckless teenagers." Perch spoke gleefully into the microphone while he stared at the camera with a big smile, ignoring the fact that someone had just thrown an egg at the back of his head.

The anger inside of him was rising as he felt the yolk drip onto his shoulders, causing his eyelid to twitch with agitation. "Well, _folks,_" he chuckled through gritted teeth, "it seems these youngsters have **ZERO RESPECT** for newsman," he seethed with a creepy smile, trying his best not to glare at the scene behind him.

"BOO!" a man popped up in front of the camera, wearing a cheap mask that was supposed to resemble a sea bear.

Perch jumped back. "Whoa! Nice costume… eh, sir." He raised an eyebrow and held the microphone in front of the man's face. "Do you have a comment about this 'night of terror', sir?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, let's hear it." Perch smiled.

The man lifted his mask and waved at the camera with a goofy smile. "Hi, SpongeBob!"

"Oh, look, Squidward!" SpongeBob pointed at the television, as he stood beneath the window in the Krusty Krab kitchen. "Patrick's on TV! Hi, Patrick!" he waved at the screen with one hand while keeping the other placed underneath his chin.

His grumpy coworker sighed heavily as he laid back in the register. "Oh, _hoo-ray._ That's just great. A buffoon, _watching_ a buffoon. They might as well give you two your own TV show and call you 'The Buffoon Brothers'. Heh, heh. You don't look alike, but you think alike. Heh." He chuckled quietly, admiring his own insults.

SpongeBob playfully punched him on the top of his head, creating the sound of a baseball bat hitting a coconut. "Dahaha! That's a good one, Squidward!"

Squidward winced in pain and scowled up at him, rubbing his head. "I wasn't even joking_, _you little- "

"Hi, I'd like to order a Krabby Patty," a mild-mannered fish interrupted as he approached the register.

Squidward was very grateful that it was almost closing time; he couldn't wait to get out this dump, go home, put on some music, and have a nice, relaxing, warm bath to soak his aching tentacles in. Well, he would be able to do that _if_ no obnoxious children came banging on his front door for sweets.

He stood up and straightened his Krusty Crew hat, releasing a puff of air through the side of his mouth. "Alright. And would you like a drink with that, sir?"

"Psst, Squidward," SpongeBob whispered above him, making Squidward's skin crawl.

"What?!"

"Don't forget the treat," SpongeBob showed a small, childish smile.

Sighing loudly again, Squidward turned back to the customer. "And would you like a special _Krusty Krab Treat _with that?"

The customer rubbed the underside of his chin. "Hm, that depends. How much extra is it?"

"As far as I'm concerned, which I'm **not**, it's free."

"Mr. Squidward!" Mr. Krabs bellowed from across the way as he stood at the exit, giving out candy to a line of children out of a large, black bucket. "ye know the treats ain't _free._"

Squidward stomped a tentacle onto the ground. "But Mr. Krabs, they're just stupid, chintzy barnacle rolls, wrapped in recycled newspaper!"

Mr. Krabs shook his head, shamelessly taking a dollar from the children as they each took a small handful of candy. "So? We already went over this, Mr. Squidward. Just because it's Halloween, doesn't mean I'm feelin' generous."

"No surprise there. You're selling candy to children, instead of _giving_ it away like a _normal_ person," Squidward scoffed while crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know that," Mr. Krabs smirked. "but that's why I'm glad I ain't 'normal'. Neptune, if I was one of those everyday 'normal' people, I wouldn't make _near_ the money that I do. Even less than that, I'd be flat broke! Arg arg arg arg arg arg!"

A woman standing next to her child in line was greatly insulted by his remark and ripped the dollar from his claw. "Shame on you, sir!"

Mr. Krabs furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Hey! That ain't fair, lady. I already gave the little brat his candy!" he pointed a claw at the young child, who was dressed in a turtle costume.

The next thing he knew, his leg was in pain after both the woman _and_ her child kicked him in the shin and walked away, leaving him to jump up and down while holding his injured stub.

"YOW! Argh," he grunted while glaring at the rest of the children and their parents leaving (and taking their money with them).

"Neptune's trousers, what was I thinkin'? It sure doesn't pay to re-sell last year's candy."

The remaining customers in the restaurant instantly turned their attention to said candy they were chewing, looking upon it with disgust and spitting it out soon after.

"Yuck, no _wonder_ this tasted stale!" complained a male fish.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" his wife stared at Mr. Krabs with an irritated expression.

"Ah," Mr. Krabs waved them off while scuttling back to his office. "Quit your bellyachin' and chew through the dust."

SpongeBob watched the television intensely as he handed a to-go-bag to Squidward. He was both mesmerized and scared as he observed strange-looking creatures running rampant all over the streets, with some of them carrying weapons as they went to beat up innocent people.

SpongeBob shook his head as his blue eyes became filled with concern. "Oh, my. It looks pretty scary out there tonight. I wonder if there are any creepy, crawly things lurking around in the Krusty Krab."

The corner of Squidward's mouth curved upward in a smug smile. "Well," he breathed sarcastically. "besides the creepy, crawly _thing_ I'm talking to right now, I doubt there'll be anything else _lurking_ around here tonight, SpongeBob." He turned to look at him. "you'd just scare them away."

SpongeBob waved him off. "Oh, Squidward. We both know I'm not 'scary', dahaha!"

Squidward squinted at him discreetly, leaning away from him as he remembered all the times the yellow menace had done things that were disturbingly scary. "That's… _debatable." _

Just then, their attention was caught by the sound of a woman, running around screaming on the television. Perch Perkins called her over and held the microphone up to her mouth. "Ma'am, do tell us, and all the folks out there: what seems to be the matter?"

The blue-colored woman panted as she clenched her fins into tight balls, her bloodshot eyes bugging out of her head. "I just… escaped… my house," she breathed. "there was… a ghost! B-But not just _any_ ghost."

"Maybe it was the Flying Dutchman?" SpongeBob wondered aloud.

The woman shook her head, as if she had heard him through the television. "And it wasn't the Flying Dutchman!"

"Oh," SpongeBob replied quietly, a bit of fear brewing inside of him.

"Well then, ma'am, if the mysterious entity _wasn't_ the Flying Dutchman, then just what kind of ghost was it that you saw?" asked Perch, intrigued.

"I-I'm not sure what you'd call it, exactly, b-but… it was big… a-and it had a deep voice, and… a _spatula_ for a hand! Oh!" she sobbed, covering her eyes with her fins. "he said he had plans to kill people tonight!"

The "spatula for a hand" part really made SpongeBob pay extra-close attention.

A moment later, a male fish came up beside her. "She's telling the truth! I saw it, too!" he exclaimed, afraid.

About fifteen more seconds passed, and the screen was flooded with dozens upon dozens of people rambling about the evil spirit and what it said it was planning to do. Their speech was very jumbled and difficult for SpongeBob to understand, so he leaned in closer, almost falling on Squidward's head.

"He must've been seven feet tall!"

"His eyes were glowing red!"

"He said he was going to the Krusty Krab!"

That last statement sent a chill throughout SpongeBob's small body, making him gulp.

Before anything else could be said, the television was shut off by Mr. Krabs, who pointed the old remote at it. "Ah, people and their crazy imaginings," he smiled and shook his head.

"I'll say. They need to lay off the spiked apple cider, heh, heh!" Squidward chuckled, his nose deflating and re-inflating as he stepped out of the boat.

SpongeBob, however, was not the least bit skeptical of the situation. "G-Gee, that must be _some_ ghost… come to think of it, the way they described it sounds very familiar, don't you think, Squidward?" he finally looked away from the blank television and followed his coworker with his eyes.

"Don't know, can't bother to care," Squidward replied blandly as he headed for the front door.

"No, really, Squidward! I'm serious," SpongeBob shouted, sweating. "d-don't you think that _ghost_ sounds a lot like the… the… the… oh, barnacles! What was it called?" he stared at the floor in thought until he snapped his fingers. "Oh! The-sash ringing… the… flash-pinging… the… rash-singing- "

"Oh, _brother!_ You mean the trash-digging- oh, now you've got _me_ screwing up the name!" Squidward said in frustration.

"Neptune's knee-highs, lad! Are ye talkin' about that scary story that Squidward told ya a long time ago?" asked Mr. Krabs, resting an elbow on the register while he looked up at his employee. "ye know," he waved his claw through the air. "the one about the fry cook who chopped off his own patty flippin' fin?"

SpongeBob nodded quickly, feeling his pulse speed up in his chest. "YES! I-I mean, _yes_, sir. But then he replaced it with… a _spatula,_ just like the people on the news described! Oh, no… he's probably still out for revenge…" SpongeBob quivered with shrinking pupils. "I remember Squidward telling me the story like it was yesterday."

Squidward rolled his eyes and slapped a tentacle against his forehead, while still standing at the exit. "SpongeBob, I told you that story seventeen years ago! It was all just a joke, none of it was real, _remember?"_

Mr. Krabs nodded in agreement, smiling at SpongeBob to calm his nerves. "He's right, Boy-o! Heh, I know I wasn't there, but I remember very clearly one of ye tellin' me that when this 'bash-slinging masher', or whatever the barnacles he was called, showed up that night while ye two were on graveyard, it was just some bloke lookin' for a job! Ain't that right, Mr. Squidward?"

Squidward sighed for the umpteenth time, wanting so desperately to just leave already. "Yes, that is what happened. Now, can I please go _home?_ I have a bath to soak in!"

"As the teens say nowadays, 'TMI', Mr. Squidward," said Mr. Krabs, shuddering and peering at him from across the way. "Just hold on a second! I'll be right there."

"As if I need someone to walk me home," Squidward muttered.

SpongeBob came out from the kitchen and stood next to his boss.

"As for _you, _SpongeBob," he continued after all the customers had already left. "I need ye to stay here and take care of the extra business. Ya know, scrub the grill, shine up the coins in me office, swab the poop deck? Oh, and before ye say anything against swabbin' the _girls' _poop deck, remember you're gonna be all alone and there will be _no_ ladies in there. I don't want ye havin' a nervous breakdown from thinkin' there's someone in there, like _last_ time," he chuckled, wrapping a fatherly arm around his very wary employee.

SpongeBob took off his hat and twisted it between his hands, watching the bright moon become enshrouded by dark, heavy rainclouds outside. "A-All _alone,_ Mr. Krabs?" he asked in a faint voice.

"_All alone_, me boy. Don't worry, nothin' is gonna happen to ye. Just 'cause it's Halloween and it's creepy, dark, and rainy outside, don't mean any smash-blinking catcher is gonna come out to haunt ye, arg arg arg arg!" he laughed, throwing his head back. "Oh, and make sure ye lock up when you're done," he finished, tossing SpongeBob the key and scuttling toward the exit.

The crustacean and octopus waved goodbye to the poor boy, catching one last glimpse of his disturbed expression.

"Have a nice Halloween, SpongeBob…" Squidward looked at him from across the way, flashing a devilish grin. "_and don't pick up the phone if it rings._"

SpongeBob gasped with fright, causing him to drop the key and slap his shaky hands against his face.

"ARG ARG ARG ARG ARG!"

"HEH, HEH, HEH!"

SpongeBob's cruel boss and coworker left the Krusty Krab, laughing at their accomplishment of scaring him half to death.

"H-Have a nice… Halloween, too… you guys…" SpongeBob whispered into the now-empty restaurant before him.

Other than the drizzle outside hitting the glass windows and doors, the fast-food establishment became as quiet as a house on Christmas Eve. SpongeBob glanced all around him, taking notice of the water that dripped from the small leak in the roof and hit the floor.

Looking to the left of the leak, he then saw a swinging overhead light that wasn't previously there before. It swayed back and forth slightly, just enough to creep him out.

_When did we get __**that**__? _He wondered.

After a minute or two, SpongeBob couldn't help but chuckle at himself. Here he was at the coziest restaurant in the whole sea; a place that was known for bringing comfort and joy to all the people in Bikini Bottom, _and he was afraid of it._

Well, technically, it wasn't really the building _itself_ he was afraid of.

It was the legend that haunted it that was getting to him.

Sure, he knew the story was just a little prank that his neighbor had pulled on him years before, just to mess with him. But after all this time and seeing the different accounts from the scared people on the news, it was beginning to _feel_ like more than just a joke or a prank. To him, it _could_ almost pass for a legend.

Why not? After all, Bikini Bottom was known for its spooky legends: The Hex, The Triangle, heck, even the Flying Dutchman _himself_ was considered a legend – and he was actually _real!_

But how could something that was originally thought up in the mind of Squidward _possibly_ turn out to be real? Or at the very least, a legend?

Then again, things that happened under the ocean almost _never_ made logical sense; things popped up and/or created themselves out of thin air (or water), so something that was supposed to be a joke actually _coming_ to life was improbable, but not implausible.

At least, that was the mindset that SpongeBob had while he was doomed to spend the next few hours "taking care of extra business". Perhaps those people on the TV _were_ crazy and imagining things, like his boss had said. After all, this was All Hallows' Eve; those people could've been paid actors, hired to scare the pants off innocent viewers at home.

"Ahaha," SpongeBob laughed to himself, sticking the key into his pocket while trying to ignore the strange sounds occurring around him. "Mr. Krabs and Squidward are right; none of it was real! What am I thinking, being such a scaredy-cat? This is Halloween! It's supposed to be fun, not- "

_**Creak…**_

SpongeBob's own words caught in his throat, and sharp chills shot straight through his pulsating veins when he heard the shrill sound of wood scraping against stainless steel.

With much caution and with sweat running down his face, he turned around to his right to see what had made that noise. Once he realized where it had come from, he felt a cool sense of relief.

"Silly me. It was just Mr. Krabs's door. Probably opened from the draft in here," he smiled and waved his hand, dismissing his own fear.

"Oh, which reminds me: I'd better go in there and shine up those coins," he said aloud, placing his hat back on his head and marching with confidence into the office.

* * *

_Forty minutes later…_

"Hmm, hmm," SpongeBob hummed, sitting in the chair of his beloved boss while he slowly wiped away any tarnish from the precious coins. The thought that, with as much as Mr. Krabs adored and took care of his money, there'd be _any_ sort of speck on these coins truly baffled SpongeBob. Perhaps the crustacean was paying more attention to his _paper_ money those days.

Normally, the enthusiastic sponge would be loudly singing some ditty about Krabby Patties while he was all alone, but this night, he was feeling rather reserved; hence only the quiet, soft humming was coming from his voice. He'd also be talking to himself a lot more, but something about the dim light above his head, and the look of the foggy, chilling night with a light drizzle outside was drilling his chipper attitude into the dirt.

He wasn't feeling much like talking.

SpongeBob huffed a moist breath over the last coin between his fingers and rubbed it clean with a burgundy-colored handkerchief, then eyed it closely to make sure it was shiny enough to show his own reflection.

He smeared his tongue across his buckteeth, happy to see that they were as pearly-white as ever.

But the longer he stared into that coin, the more he focused on what it was reflecting _behind _him.

SpongeBob's eyes began to widen, and his pulse accelerated, pounding in his ears like a giant fist banging against a thick, wooden door.

A single drop of sweat fell from his forehead and onto the desk as a dark shadow cast up against the wall, which he wouldn't have even known was there, had he not been staring at that coin.

He gasped, dropping the piece of copper and whipping his head around to look at the wall.

There was nothing there. Nothing but the old paint that stained the wood.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair with his eyelids half-closed. _No worries, SpongeBob. It was probably just a passing boat! No big deal. But… wait a minute… if… that was a boat, then… where were the headlights?_

He leaned forward, his eyes searching the top of the dusty desk as he racked his brain for a _true_ explanation for what he just saw.

His clammy, yellow hands gripped the handkerchief, and he kept his head down, breathing heavily.

He didn't need to look up in order to notice that the overhead light was now flickering.

_On and off, on and off_

_There are three signs that signal the approach of the- _

SpongeBob shook his head as the old words of his coworker echoed eerily throughout his thoughts. Why was he thinking about this foolishness? How many times did he need to be reminded that it was just a joke?

_Heh, heh… o-okay, so… t-the light is… flickering. Now what? Pssh, it's just like Squidward told me a long time ago: it's the faulty wiring in here. Nothing to be afraid of, SpongeBob. Either that or it's just Nosferatu_, he joked, then peeked to the left to view the empty room where the light switch was, but the vampire was nowhere to be seen. And the lights continued to flicker.

Maybe it was time to take care of that other business that Mr. Krabs had ordered him to take care of.

After moments of contemplation, he looked up through the open door into that led into the dark restaurant.

A flash of lightning illuminated something that was reminiscent of a mysterious, menacing, evil spirit that people often described getting visited by in the middle of a dark night.

SpongeBob gasped in electrifying horror and flew backward against the chair, almost knocking it _and_ himself over, while tightly gripping its arms as if that was going to protect him from the shadow.

Whatever was there, was _only_ there for a second or two. However, even that was enough time for him to be able to tell that it was ridiculously similar to the ghost that people had mentioned on the television.

Brushing aside the possibility that he might be losing his mind; SpongeBob was carefully thinking about that entity and the fact that it may or may not be the deceased person from Squidward's original story**. **

The person that had appeared in the restaurant all those years ago was short with a wide nose that protruded greatly, with nostrils that resembled a pair of eyes, and had a rather large head – all of that was nowhere _near _as hideous or frightening as what SpongeBob had just seen out that window.

This shadow, as the people on TV had described, appeared to be abnormally tall. As for the eyes, SpongeBob could've sworn he did, in fact, catch a slight glimpse of something dark red in color.

But in order to know for sure, he'd have to see it again. Which, if he didn't want to have a heart attack, he needed to avoid at all costs.

SpongeBob leaned to the side in the chair, risking his own sanity as he stared out into the vacant dining area.

All was silent, except for the pitter-patter of the rain. He was surprised that, even though this was the night for kids to be running around and having fun, there were none in sight.

Oh, how he _wished_ there was at least one, single soul wandering around outside to keep him company. Or, at least, keep him from drowning in fear.

* * *

_Hours later…_

SpongeBob's work had taken him quite a bit longer than he had expected. Fortunately, over the past couple of hours, there didn't seem to be any more "signs" that signaled the arrival of the spirit that he couldn't remember how to pronounce to save his porous life.

Once SpongeBob's nerves had given him somewhat of a break for a while, he went around the place and did more than he had been asked to do. So, _typical_ SpongeBob SquarePants, basically.

He had mopped the floors, scraped the gum from underneath the tables, counted a jar of sesame seeds, and was now standing over the grill, scrubbing it with another sponge that was pink in color.

SpongeBob stood hunched over the cold grill, focusing on scrubbing away the grease that saturated the surface. Drops of sweat occasionally fell upon it, much to his annoyance.

He rubbed his hand back and forth in a vigorous manner until he was finally satisfied with what it now looked like.

"Ahh, now _that's _what I call a clean grill." He said aloud, proudly placing his hands on his hips.

_**On, off, on, off…**_

SpongeBob's arms fell at his sides and his blue eyes shifted up to the ceiling, watching the lights flicker for the second time.

He rolled his eyes with a smile. _Pfft, again? You can't scare __**me,**__ wires! Nice try._

He swiftly brushed his hands together after wiping the grease from them with a towel. "Now, I believe it's time to swab some poop decks like Mr. Krabs asked." He looked up at the clock and noticed it was approaching a very _interesting_ hour.

_Gosh, it's almost 3 a.m.?! My goodness, I had no idea I've been here for so long! I hope Gary didn't chew up the sofa… oh, well. I'll just keep working and hope for the best._

Following along with that hope, SpongeBob gathered some supplies that would aid him in both restrooms. He held a roll of paper towels under his right arm while grasping the mop with his right hand, and a bottle of cleaning solution in his left hand. He proceeded to walk forward until he tripped on a nail, causing him to fall facedown on the harsh, splintery floor.

Grunting, he stood up and rubbed the side of his face, his eyebrows furrowed. "Ugh, barnacles." He cursed, bending in half to pick up what he had dropped.

_**Ring…**_

He froze, still bent in half.

The phone was ringing… at almost _3 in the morning._

SpongeBob slowly stood upright, staring at the wall that was opposite the kitchen window, his mouth agape and his eyes still with fear.

_**Ring… ring…**_

As the sound of the rain hitting the roof became louder, so also did SpongeBob's heart rate. He slowly sucked in deep breaths to keep his pulse from completely destroying him. Each breath he breathed took more and more effort with every passing second.

The phone continued to ring.

_Don't pick up the phone if it rings,_ Squidward's voice sounded in his thoughts.

Slowly, he turned around and stared out the kitchen window, looking at the darkness as if it were an animal licking its chops, and he was its prey.

He smiled nervously to himself, wiping the perspiration from his brow. _Now, now, SpongeBob. Don't listen to what Squidward said. It's just a phone call… you should go answer it! M-Maybe it's Patrick. You know him and his Krabby Patties at 3 a.m._

SpongeBob reluctantly stepped into the dank dining area. It was so cold in there; he figured that the chill in the air would've stopped him from sweating, but it only seemed to make it _worse._

"H-Hello, Krusty Krab," he answered kindly as he stood at the register, holding a smile.

Silence.

"Ha! Nice try, Squidward. I remember this. 'The phone will ring, and there will be nobody there'," SpongeBob chuckled. "I said it then, and I'll say it now: you crack me up!" he shook his head.

More silence.

SpongeBob, becoming anxious again, squeezed the phone cord and stared at the floor. "O-Okay, Squidward. A joke's a joke, but I think this is enough." He bit his lip as the silence continued.

"Dahaha! Wow, you're _really_ getting into this, huh, Squiddy?"

"I've been watching you."

SpongeBob's eardrum practically exploded with fear upon hearing the deep, grim, raspy voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were wide and unblinking.

"Uh… heh, heh," he forced a laugh. "t-that's… not part of the story, Squidward," his voice shook. "Y-You're not supposed to say anything, r-remember?" he gulped. "'c-cause there isn't _supposed_ to be… a-anybody there…"

Silence.

"Sq-Squidward…?"

The next thing that could be heard was breathing. Heavy, labored breathing that sounded like it came from a giant, hungry animal.

SpongeBob's mouth opened, and his lips moved, trying to force out words. "I-if y-you're not S-Squidward, t-then...W-w-w-w-w-who a-a-a-are y-you?" he asked, shakily and barely audible.

No answer.

SpongeBob pulled the phone away from his ear. "WHO… ARE YOU?!" he screamed.

"I'm coming for you."

* * *

**A/N: AHH! IT'S THE TRASH-CLINGING-ahh, I'm not even gonna try LOL. I decided to split this into two chapters because it's just gonna be WAY too long. Stay tuned for part two! That's where things get **_**really**_** wild. **


	2. Chapter 2: Or Was It?

**Hello and thanks so much for all your reviews! SO… *big sigh* Idk what happened, guys. I know it's ridiculous that I'm finishing this WEEKS after Halloween, and I even considered just discontinuing it. However, you guys seem very interested in seeing how the story ends, so I can't just leave you hanging, haha. I'm honestly unsure if y'all are gonna like this ending… if you don't, well, there's always the option to delete it lol. Anyway, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**A Joke's Revenge**

A fierce flash of lightning struck outside in the storm, right as SpongeBob released a gasp of pure horror and slammed the receiver back down on the hook. He stared at the ground with eyes as wide as the whole sea, his head moving forward and backward as he struggled to refill his shaky body with the water necessary to breathe.

That voice stuck in his brain like a song that is overplayed on the radio. It was the deepest, most hauntingly frightening voice – one that was unlike anything he had ever heard.

It sent chills throughout him when he thought about who that person really was over the phone.

He rubbed the front of his neck gently. His vocal cords were still pained from how loudly and sharply he had yelled into the old phone only a minute before. He turned his head to the left and glanced at the restrooms that still needed to be cleaned… but was all this mental torture really worth it?

SpongeBob then turned to stare out the window. The raindrops fell, one after the other as thunder rumbled, and darkness hovered over the scenery in the distance.

_The lights…_

_Then, the phone…_

Finally, as there was only _one_ sign left to be fulfilled, he slowly turned straight ahead and warily peered out through the main doors. The road was empty and was showered with rain.

Muted-green fog swirled along the ground as if it was trying to convey some sort of cryptic message to him.

SpongeBob's shoulders shook as he forced out the fakest laugh that he could muster. "Dah, ha, ha, ha, ha…" he smiled with quivering lips, his eyes slowly scanning the outside of the restaurant.

"What have I got to worry about? So what if some creepy guy on the phone said he's been watching me and is coming for me? Ahaha! It was probably just some prankster," he waved at the air. No matter how hard he tried, he was still unconvinced by his own words.

"Some… prankster with the spookiest voice I have **ever** heard in all my life." The last few words he spoke came out sounding like the squeak of a land mouse.

_What was that third sign that Squidward mentioned all those years ago? Was it the thing with the green slime, oozing from the walls? No, no. The walls always do that. _He furrowed his brows, thinking hard.

_Oh, yeah! How could I forget? It was the thing about the __**bus**__ showing up and dropping off the ghost so that he could "wreak his __**horrible**__ vengeance". Haha, yep… that was it alright. _He swallowed and bit his bottom lip as warm pools of sweat formed all over his body.

His eyes shifted from left to right.

_**Drip, drip…**_

_**Whoosh, whoosh…**_

The distant, muffled sounds of nature filled his ears, along with an eerie silence lingering in the restaurant.

Several minutes had passed, and nothing else was happening. It was almost 3 A.M., he was drained in the eyes and physically exhausted from all the hard work; it was only natural for him to start imagining things that weren't there… right?

Besides, what would that ghost be doing there anyway? It was past midnight, which meant it was no longer Halloween, and it wasn't even Tuesday night! There were a number of logical explanations for this situation.

There was a possibility that he was completely out of his mind due to his fatigue, and the leftover scary images in his head from seeing that horror movie with Patrick the other night.

It was possible that this was an elaborate scheme devised by Plankton to steal the Krabby Patty Secret Formula (which wouldn't be all that surprising, considering what lengths Plankton always went to in order to get it).

There was a chance that he was being pranked, either by some strange, sick person who enjoyed scaring people _or_ by his own friends.

Squidward and Mr. Krabs doing that? Well, he could see that.

Patrick? Maybe. Sometimes the pink starfish wasn't the greatest friend.

Sandy? He really wasn't sure. She certainly had a jokester side to her that she showed every now and then.

Harold or Fred? Well, they were more _acquaintances _than close friends. He doubted either one of them cared enough to prank him, anyway.

Perhaps Gary had something to do with it? That wouldn't surprise him, considering that the snail loved to pull a good prank here and there.

He was running out of suspects to list.

The only other possibility would be…

Nah, it couldn't be _real_, could it? Again, it was all just a crazy story that Squidward had come up with a long time ago! _"None of it's true," _he had said.

A ghostly fry cook, with a spatula for a hand.

Coming back to wreak his vengeance on the Krusty Krab.

"_It was all __**just**__ a joke."_

Or **was** it?

SpongeBob shrugged. Now that his fear had died down once he took the time to really listen for any other strange noises, he was ready to finally finish up his work, go home, snuggle into his warm bed, and dream about Krabby Patties all night.

The next day, he was _sure_ to have a good chuckle about all this silliness.

"Well, Mr. Bash-clinging dasher," SpongeBob said loudly with a smug smile. "I don't see any **bus **showing up around here! What's the matter?" he leaned up against the register, looking down at his fingernails. "are you too **afraid** to show yourself again?"

He turned to walk back toward the kitchen to pick up those cleaning supplies, his eyes briefly sweeping by the window located on the far left of the room.

His feet skidded on the wooden floor, dust kicking up from underneath his heels.

There was a reason that a bus wasn't showing up.

One had _already _been parked there for Neptune knew how long.

SpongeBob breathed through his clenched teeth and stared at the old, rusty vehicle that looked like it hadn't been driven in fifty-plus years.

The bus seemed to possess a rather _ghostly_ aura, with its faded, red color and cracked windows.

_T-That's… funny. Heh, I always thought the bus stop was near the __**exit**__. _Slowly, his fear returned.

The longer he stared at that bus, the more the room closed in on him. For once, he wanted _**nothing**_ more than to get the barnacles out of the Krusty Krab and run as fast as he could.

That awful, dreadful feeling that people get when they're alone, without anyone or anything to distract them from the heart-pounding silence and creepiness, made itself known to him for the _final_ time this evening, and he couldn't be more horrified.

SpongeBob cautiously took sidesteps toward the kitchen, keeping his main focus on the bus while briefly glancing over at the exit a couple of times, checking to see if the coast was clear.

Another strike of lightning hit, skyrocketing his already jumpy nerves to even greater heights. He flinched, shutting his eyelids even tighter like a child did when they wished for the monster under their bed to vanish.

Quivering, and with his buckteeth once again sinking into his bottom lip, SpongeBob backed up quickly into the kitchen, crouched to the floor, and attempted to gather the cleaning supplies for the second time.

_It's okay, SpongeBob. So what if there's a creepy, ghost-like bus __**already**__ parked outside? T-The driver probably decided to… take a break. Maybe he's just tired and wants a nice, cozy spot to rest for the night. _He nodded in self-reassurance while smiling calmly.

The sound of sharp metal tapping against the glass in the distance interrupted his thoughts.

His stiff, cold arms grew as heavy as giant sacks of coins, and his eyes focused intensely on the ground.

"_He taps on the window with his __**grizzly**__ spatula hand…"_

The misty shadowiness that surrounded him and the restaurant suddenly managed to darken even _more, _which left the little fry cook with two options.

Stay as still and quiet as possible so as to go unnoticed by whatever evil force had entered the building. Or risk his life just to escape.

The latter did sound like the more logical option, but did he _really _want to leave without finishing his work? To him, not finishing a task was just as frightening as some ghost that was supposedly spying on him.

His moist palms slid back and forth over his knees; his mind torn in two directions. "Heh, heh… well, I've cleaned the bathroom hundreds of times before. I'm sure I can get it done lickity-split without some creepy, **dead** _fry cook_ coming to get me!" he said with a shred of confidence.

The front doors uncannily creaked open and hit the wall, with just enough of a thud to rouse SpongeBob to action and break him from his delusions.

"_He opens the door…"_

One frantic, yellow hand worked quickly to sweep up the items into SpongeBob's arm. "Oh, no! D-did I say 'lickity-split'? Haha, I-I meant **SUPER** lickity-split! Ah, haha!" he didn't dare to look up from the floor.

Strategic footsteps grew closer, and SpongeBob's heart pounded with so much force, it should've sent him to the emergency room.

"**Super, DUPER** lickity-split! Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant!" the words rolled off his tongue like a boat speeding at one-hundred miles per hour, and his raspy voice exhibited signs of crippling distress.

"_He slowly approaches the __**counter!**__"_

SpongeBob shook his head at a rapid speed. The combination of every bone-chilling thing that was occurring, along with Squidward's thundering voice inside his head, drove him into madness that he could not escape from.

SpongeBob stood simultaneously with the flash of lightning that illuminated the tall, black shadow that loomed directly outside the kitchen window behind him.

Heavy breaths escaped from his nostrils, and his pupils shrank from fear. The cleaning items slipped from his grasp and hit the floor, the paper towels bouncing off his shoes.

"I-I-Is that you, Squidward?" he asked, quietly and shakily.

After no answer was given, the pool of saliva that had collected in SpongeBob's mouth slipped down his throat. "No? Guess not, heh…"

Goosebumps popped up on every inch of SpongeBob's body from the sound of deep, threatening breathing.

"M-Mr… **Krabs?** Gee, sounds like you've come down with a pretty nasty chest cold. That's my fault for not sanitizing your office as often as I should, haha, ha."

Another deafening silence circulated throughout the water.

"Y-You're **not** Mr. Krabs either, huh?" SpongeBob rubbed his knuckle in anxiousness.

Good Neptune, he should've **never** done this. All those years working at the Krusty Krab, SpongeBob always, no matter what, did his very best to obey his boss. This time, however, he wished he would've just walked out those doors without worrying about his duties. _Just this once._ Mr. Krabs most likely would have been angry with him for abandoning his work, but he would change his tune if he was in SpongeBob's shoes, alone with an entity that he wasn't even _sure_ was real, or just a figment of his imagination.

There was no way he was going to clean those restrooms now.

How much longer he was going to be standing there, with his back turned while this menacing being stalked him with his deadly, empty eyes, was a mystery to SpongeBob. That was until his eyes made their way toward the left of the room, and his breath caught in his throat.

_Of course, the back door! Why didn't I think of that before?_

Taking what was probably the biggest risk of his existence, SpongeBob kicked the cleaning supplies out of his way and dashed to the door, gripping the handle and yanking on it.

It refused to open. He squinted and stared down at the handle.

The lock had disappeared.

SpongeBob's chest inflated and deflated dramatically. What kind of creature could perform this kind of sorcery?

SpongeBob's hand slipped away from the cold handle, and his mind clouded with thoughts of different ways that he could make his escape.

"Psh, _very funny, _Plankton. Was magically disabling the door handle part of your latest scheme to steal the Secret Formula?" SpongeBob rolled his eyes. Perhaps if he _pretended_ to show some attitude, it would get the perpetrator to fess up.

Silence.

"Come on, Patrick! Stop fooling around. It's been a long night and I'm ready to go to bed." SpongeBob was running out of ideas. Since his "attitude" didn't seem to work, he figured that maybe playing a bit of a guessing game could do a little something.

SpongeBob clenched his fists after more silence had passed. "Alright, Sandy. Enough is enough! Halloween's over. And in case you've forgotten, I am **not** 'scaredy-pants' anymore! I'm a grown big boy! S-so, you'd better just stop it with this little prank, Karen… Bubble Bass…"

That same sharp metal dragged across the edge of the window, creating an ear-splitting sound that made SpongeBob cringe and press his hands over his holes.

SpongeBob trembled like a little child. Whoever this person was, they were playing their **own** kind of game.

"L-Larry the… Lobster? Old Man Jenkins? Smitty WerbenJagerManJensen? **Anybody** that I know?!"

"Guess again," the deathly, breathy voice answered in a sinister tone.

SpongeBob's breathing spiraled out of control. "I-I-I think I'm all out of guesses! Well, except my parents… maybe Cousin Stanley–oh, _barnacles!_ I haven't seen him in years! He wouldn't come around just to pull a prank on me."

A haunting, condescending chuckle filled the room as lightning struck. SpongeBob jumped and shrieked in response.

Finally reaching his breaking point, he drove his fist into his palm and spun around on his heels. If there was ever a good time to face a fear, this was it.

"ALRIGHT, that is enough, Mister! Now, who **are you?!**" SpongeBob's mouth gaped open, becoming speechless.

His eyes immediately met the shadow that was as black as the atmosphere in outer space. The demonic spirit with red, glowing eyes and a wide, clown-like grin held up an object that was difficult to make out in the shadows.

SpongeBob sucked in a harsh breath, tripping over his own feet. He backed up and bumped into the cupboard, and the large box that sat on top fell on him, covering him completely.

The image of the creature was sure to leave a mark in his fragile brain. SpongeBob, though still in pain from the fall, pushed the box upward and looked through the window.

The shadow was gone, leaving only the echo of that disconcerting laugh to linger in the water.

Shaking his head with great fear, SpongeBob jumped to his feet. _I've gotta get outta here, __**right now!**__ Sorry, Mr. Krabs, but those restrooms are going to have to wait._

He burst through the kitchen door and ran for the exit. The kind of feeling that enveloped him was equivalent to being trapped inside of a nightmare, with sweat pouring, blood rushing, and limbs flailing due to the stress of enduring such miserable imaginings.

Adrenaline pumped through him as he neared the doors. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. _Just a few more feet… come on, you can make- _

His ankles were tightly grabbed by a force that was, for the moment, unseen.

SpongeBob's face slammed into the floor, and his nails dug into the wood as he was violently dragged like a worthless, weightless ragdoll until his skin was filled with splinters.

He screamed in bloody horror. "Oh, whoever you are, **STOP, **_please!_ I am begging you, **please!**" he cried.

Everything froze for a few seconds. SpongeBob caught his breath and lifted his head off the floor, looking in the direction of the exit.

The key that he had inadvertently dropped sat right in front of the doors, just waiting for someone to snatch it up.

Suddenly, that key was no more. It faded into nothingness as if it were a ghost itself.

SpongeBob ground his teeth together, pressed his palms onto the floor, and lifted himself up. He looked all around the ceiling and stumbled like he had been in a boxing match. "W-why are you doing this to me? Why are you here? Just **who **do you think you are?!" there were so many other questions he wanted to ask, but he knew he was taking a big enough risk as it was.

"Who do _you_ think I am, **fry cook**?" the voice surrounded SpongeBob on all sides. He searched in every direction, but there was nobody in sight.

"I-I-I think you're a… a big meanie for going around and scaring people! Whoever you really are, you should be ashamed!"

"The people who should be ashamed are the mindless fools that still walk the ocean floor, such as yourself." The voice spat, growing angrier.

SpongeBob twirled around in circles with wary eyes. "W-w-why? What did **I **do, Mr. Ghost… sir?" he asked, innocently.

"You are the one who replaced me after I was brutally attacked by the former owner of this restaurant."

SpongeBob shook his head in confusion. "What? _Attacked?_ W-what are you talking about- "

A sudden, powerful wind swirled around SpongeBob, twirling him until he felt dizzy and was knocked onto the floor.

"**I did not** dismember my own hand, fry cook!" the voice growled. "the story that Squidward Tentacles told you was not the exact truth."

SpongeBob's mouth dropped open. He sat up, only to be shoved on his back again and held down by his throat. His body shook with fright, and he stared at the ceiling with a desperate expression.

"When I was a living being, the poor, selfish fish that owned this establishment was displeased with my work; he was never satisfied with _anything_ that I did for him. Then, it was the night before this one that he came and severed my fry-cooking hand. He uttered to me that I was a worthless, **lazy** sardine as he _hacked_ away at my wrist, tearing and slicing at my bloody flesh while I screamed in agony. Do you hear me, fry cook? **AGONY!" **the voice echoed, piercing SpongeBob's ears.

The graphic description made SpongeBob feel sick to his stomach. The weight on his throat made him unable to speak.

"Shortly after, on Halloween, the owner hired a hitman to finish me off. Do you know who that hitman was, fry cook?"

SpongeBob could only wince in response.

"He was the driver of the bus that is parked on the side of this building. My torn, dead flesh still remains within the grooves of its dusty tires, even as it is now just as ghostly as me."

Moments later, an old, partially shredded newspaper with a green glow surrounding its edges floated over SpongeBob's eyes.

"_November 1__st__, 1964. Local restaurant owner and bus driver put under arrest for the murder of a fry cook."_

SpongeBob stared in disbelief at the article written in old ink. He wanted to scream as the translucent newspaper went up in flames, its ashes landing on his face.

Suddenly, the weight over his body shifted and pushed him up on his feet. He struggled to breathe and held onto the edge of the boat. "I… I don't… understand. This… this whole thing can't possibly be real. **You're** not real! That was just a story that…" he panted. "that Squidward told me as a **joke** over seventeen years ago. This is… this just can't be… right." He sank to his knees in distress, gripping both hands around the cash register.

"My story is not a joke, fry cook. Your miserable coworker knows of what really happened and only _pretended_ to dream it into being. He shamelessly took my story and twisted it into something that was for his own entertainment."

SpongeBob's hand gripped his spongy chest. He looked up at the ceiling again. "S-So… i-it was never… a joke? You mean that Squidward had that old newspaper and…"

"That is right. Now, I am done with the talk. It is time to wreak my **horrible** vengeance."

SpongeBob stood up straight, shaking his head with a growing expression of fear. "Oh, no… please, spare me! I-I know that I've taken your place, but I had nothing to do with your murder or anything! And I wasn't the one who twisted your story, either!" he backed up until he hit the wall.

Barrels and tables lifted off the ground and came crashing into the direction of SpongeBob. He cowered and buried his face between his legs, covering his head with his arms. Chunks of wood flew everywhere as the objects smashed all around SpongeBob, instead of smashing into him.

"Anyone who has participated in the mockery of my story will be punished," said the voice. "I have already punished those who destroyed my earthly existence, and they rot in the dungeons of the Underworld, now and forever!" he cackled.

SpongeBob whimpered. _Oh my goodness… that means… oh, no! Mr. Krabs and Squidward!_

The water in front of him swirled around in the form of whirlpools, one of which surrounded him and carried him toward the very top of the ceiling. He stared down at the distant floor below him, his fear of heights returning.

"Please, Mr. Crash-singing- I mean Flash-pinging- I MEAN, Dash-bringing- Oh! I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what happened to you! You didn't deserve it, you really didn't. But I'm _begging_ you, **please** don't hurt Squidward and Mr. Krabs! Please! I changed my mind. You can hurt me all that you want to, but just please don't hurt _them!" _SpongeBob begged, tears streaming down his face.

"A weak mortal like you has no power over my decisions. Evildoers must pay. And pay, they shall!"

_**Evildoers?! **__Come on! I know what Squidward did was wrong, and Mr. Krabs made fun of it too, but I wouldn't call them evildo-_

SpongeBob screamed as the whirlpool flooded downward like a tidal wave. He flew out of it and slammed into the wall, landing on his head. Soon, he regained momentum and flipped onto his feet, dreading what may happen next.

The phantom's evil laugh filled the water once again, and his shadowy form slowly reappeared.

He was more terrifying than the first and second time SpongeBob had seen him. The spirit stood as a seven-foot-tall giant, his eyes glowing like fire, with a black hood draped over his face, concealing his disturbing smile.

SpongeBob backed up against the cash register, puffing out his chest and shutting his eyes tightly. As the hideous, horrifying figure hovered over him, SpongeBob trembled and tasted the salty tears that fell from his eyes.

_Oh, dear Neptune, please help me!_

The sound of a knife being pulled from a chopping block was created.

SpongeBob looked up. The merciless spirit wielded his rusty spatula hand high above his head. He looked down menacingly at the innocent young man.

"Now, it is time to feel the **true **wrath of the **Hash-slinging slasher!**"

As that title was finally uttered the correct way, an intense chill shot throughout SpongeBob's body before he screamed.

The old, rusty spatula came down and sliced his hand clean off. SpongeBob watched it fall to the ground with horror. Luckily for him, though, that wouldn't be a problem fixing.

Almost instantly, it regrew as good as new, which angered the Hash-slinging slasher.

"What's this?!" he demanded.

SpongeBob smiled sheepishly at him and said, "Heh… it's just part of being a sponge."

The spirit grunted loudly and thrust his spatula at SpongeBob, who shrieked and ducked just in time. The boat and register were now cut in half.

SpongeBob breathed in and out quickly as he reached the doors, pulling on them as hard as he could. Somehow, they had been locked, too. There was no way out.

"Barnacles!" he cursed.

The spirit behind him floated closer and closer, waving the spatula forward and backward in a mechanical manner. SpongeBob looked back at him and gasped. He pressed both his feet against the door as he pulled with all his might.

He huffed and stood on the ground again, banging his fists against the glass. "Oh, please! Let me out, let me out, let me out, LET ME OUT!" he sobbed.

He turned around; his back pressed against the doors as the phantom moved closer. Sweat dripped down his face and created a puddle around his feet.

Then, a daring thought entered his mind. He knew that Mr. Krabs would probably never forgive him after this, but if he wanted to survive, it had to be done.

SpongeBob's eyes shifted to his left in search of something heavy. By some miracle, there was _one_ barrel that remained. He looked back at the ghost for a moment before springing into action.

SpongeBob gathered his strength and grabbed the heavy barrel. "UGH!" he grunted as he swung it at the doors and shattered the glass.

* * *

_Minutes later…_

Little yellow feet adorned in black shoes slammed into the pavement. SpongeBob absorbed some of the rain that fell upon his porous body. He looked behind him as he jogged for his life, thankful to see that the ghost was not currently following him.

Oh, but that was because the old "joke" had other plans for the rest of the night.

Families in their homes turned on their lights and peered out their windows. Someone out there was creating a disturbance and screaming about-

"Everybody, don't go outside! The Hash-slinging slasher is real! He's real and he's ON THE LOOSE! Oh, I've got to warn Mr. Krabs and Squidward!" SpongeBob declared.

A male fish approached his wife, who had her hair in curlers while she sat at the window and watched SpongeBob shout like a maniac.

"What's he going on about, hon?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

"I'm not sure, dear… he's completely lost his mind. I think the little guy's been smoking a bit too much of that seaweed lately."

SpongeBob turned a corner and nearly bumped into Sandy, who was busy gathering supplies for a late-night experiment.

"Howdy, SpongeBob! What are ya doin' up at this hour?" she asked with a smile.

"Ghost… gonna… get revenge on… Mr. Krabs… and… Squid… GAH!" he shook his head and pushed past her.

Sandy was left very confused. "What in tarnation? Hm… must be the seaweed."

As his long-running session finally came to a close, SpongeBob entered the neighborhood of Conch Street and approached Squidward's front door.

"Squidward!" he shouted, banging on the door. "Squidward, you need to come out, please! There's something you need to know! Oh, I hope I'm not too late…" he placed his hand against his forehead and stared at the ground. The last thing he wanted was for one of his best friends – well, what _he_ considered to be his "best friend" – and his boss becoming the next victims of the slasher's vengeance.

Just then, Patrick's rock opened, with him attached to it in his pajamas. "I don't think he's home, SpongeBob," he stated, still groggy from waking up.

SpongeBob rushed over to him and looked up at him in anguish. "He's not? Oh, where did he go, Patrick?"

Patrick shrugged and scratched the side of his head. "I don't know. I just remember waking up and hearing him screaming about some Cash-blinking catcher being in his house."

_Meanwhile…_

Squidward, dressed in his soft nightgown and slippers, paced the floor of Mr. Krabs' bedroom. The octopus kept his gaze on the ground while he nervously rubbed his tentacles, still traumatized from what he had seen only just a little while earlier.

Mr. Krabs himself sat in his hammock with his stubs crossed, wearing a skeptical expression. "So, let me get this straight: you're tellin' me ye had a nightmare, woke up, and saw a demon standin' at the foot of your bed?"

"It wasn't _just_ a demon, Eugene!" he half-whispered, unable to contain how perturbed he was.

Mr. Krabs cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, then just what _kind_ of demon was it that ye saw?"

Squidward stared at him with unsureness in his eyes. He had spent so much time _making fun_ of not only SpongeBob but also the very thing that had supposedly come to haunt him in his sleep. He was sure that Mr. Krabs would be making fun of _him_ after he told him what happened.

"I'm waiting," said Mr. Krabs, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Uh… w-well," Squidward swallowed and sat next to his boss, reluctant to look at him. "I think it was the haaaa…"

Mr. Krabs jumped back a little in an unpleasant surprise. "The 'haaaa'? What kind of seaweed have ye been smokin', Mr. Squidward?"

"None, Mr. Krabs," Squidward pushed aside how insulted he felt by Krabs' accusation. "I meant to say, I think it was the haa… the… the haaa…"

Mr. Krabs rolled his eyes and threw his claws up in the air. "Oh, come on now, Mr. Squidward! It's too early in the mornin' for me to be dealin' with this kind of malarkey!"

"Oh…" Squidward fumed in frustration. "The ghost! The ghost that SpongeBob was babbling on about at the Krusty Krab!"

"Ye mean the Trash-flinging- "

"Yeah, yeah! You know what it is. Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, and you're probably gonna think I'm _crazy_, but I think – no, I **know** that _that's_ who I saw in my bedroom tonight."

It was one thing to have an employee as out of touch with reality as SpongeBob, but if _Squidward_ was starting to go down that same path, Mr. Krabs had a real problem on his claws.

"Are ye seriously tellin' me you're startin' to believe your own _scary _story that you made up all those years ago?" asked Mr. Krabs, peering at him.

Squidward shook his head and looked at the crustacean with pleading eyes. "That's the thing – I _didn't_ make up that story. I-I remember reading about it in an old newspaper that my grandfather handed down to me. All I did was tweak the story a bit just to scare SpongeBob," he replied, regret in his tone.

Mr. Krabs' eyes widened, looking at him disbelievingly. He readjusted himself in the hammock and looked Squidward directly in the eyes. "What?! So _now_ you're tellin' me ye _didn't_ make up that story? It was real all this time?"

Squidward nodded shamefully.

"Oo-kay. But why the barnacles am I just now findin' out about this?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Krabs! I don't know." He sighed heavily. "It was just a random story that I remembered on the spot, and I figured the original version of it was too gruesome to tell that little barnacle-brain, so I changed it. I didn't think it would ever lead to something as absurd as this."

"Yeah, and now that means that you've probably pissed off that Sash-clinking dancer and he's gonna come and kill us! Nice goin', Mr. Squidward," Mr. Krabs shook his head.

Squidward glared at him. "Hey, _I'm _not the only one who pissed him off! Remember, _you_ were making fun of all of it earlier tonight," he wiggled his head and spoke sarcastically.

"Heh, _so were you_, Mr. 'I can't get a date to save my life'!" Mr. Krabs spat with the same level of sarcasm.

"_What_ does dating have to do with this?!"

_**Tap, tap, tap**_, there was something hitting the window.

"What the barnacles?" wondered Mr. Krabs, leaning forward and staring at it.

Nothing other than a grizzly, rusty spatula tapped against the glass.

"AHHHHHHHH!' they screamed, holding onto each other.

"The Sash-ringing!"

"The Flash-Pingin'!"

The window flew open, sending in a chilling breeze that blew out the two candles on Mr. Krabs' nightstand.

"The **Hash-slinging slasher!** Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" the phantom bellowed.

What occurred after his arrival was unknown to the rest of Bikini Bottom. Perhaps they would find out what took place _next _Halloween.

* * *

**A/N: Annnndd… finished! Lol. Okay, so… yeah, **_**that**_** happened haha. A few things I'd like to mention before I go: firstly, yes, I know that I overused the seaweed joke, lol. Secondly, I hope this whole story wasn't too weird or anything. Kind of an odd ending, I know, but I like the idea of leaving it up in the air. (I mean, you can probably imagine what happened after he showed up. It's pretty obvious lol). Again, I know it took me WAY too long to post this, and I apologize, but at least it's here. Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you again soon. **


End file.
